Lyra Malfoy and the Whispering Snake
by DiedLaughing
Summary: Lyra Malfoy wants to be that one Slytherin who isn't a coward or evil but that turns out to be far harder than she thought with all the blood that will soon be spilled. this is not the full summary! real summary inside!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Okay, so I don't really write for Harry Potter because I feel like all the plotlines have been done so many times, but I had an idea, so here goes nothing. As I said, this is my first Harry Potter fic, so please tell me what you think in a review or PM. I have been away from fanfiction for a while now and my life has become extremely hectic. I make no promises if I will update on a regular basis but I really hope I can.**

Summary: Scorpious Malfoy was just like all the other Malfoy men. He had the looks of shocking blonde hair and dark piercing gray eyes. He was a trademark Slytherin, a complete arrogant fool, and, just like his father and his father's father, a coward. Or so his sister, Lyra Narcissus Malfoy, thought until the day he saved her life at the risk of his own. Now her brother is dead and the threat of a new dark lord is rising and is trying to use her to do so. Can Lyra resist the temptation of power that most Slytherins fail to ignore or will she to fall and succumb to the dark power within her?

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or the characters or plotlines within the books nor will I ever. I know it's sad. However, they belong to J.K. Rowling. Also, I do not own the band Snidget as they are in fact a real wizarding rock band inspired from the books. **

I remember the day well. You don't really forget events like this though; the day your own brother dies to save you. I wish he hadn't, I really do. I should have died that day, not him, after all, it was my fault. Things would be so much easier had it been me. But did my arrogant older brother understand that? No, of course not, my brother didn't know anything; I was outside on the grounds of the Malfoy Manor. It was cold; too cold for me to be outside with nothing but a thin sweater on in the chilly December air. The frigid wind whipped at my now tangled shoulder length blonde hair, and the air nipped at my skin through the thin fabric. Of course, I really didn't mind the cold because I wasn't planning on staying here. I wanted to get away from the house, from my family, from my brother, so I was trying to Apparate. Apparating was a skill far beyond my years of knowledge, but I had to try. I looked down at the ring on my finger. It had a shiny silver band in shape of a snake with silver scales imprinted into its body. A small emerald jewel sat inside the snake's open mouth on the top of the ring. The ring was too big for my small bony fingers, but that had never stopped me from wearing it before. I twisted it around a few times to calm my nerves. It was my way of keeping my emotions collected. I stored everything bad into the tiny green emerald. Any bad thoughts, angry emotions; anything. I am not one to open up; I would rather just bottle it up into this tiny little ring. Little did I know that I was actually channeling my magic into the little ring. I was storing bits and pieces of hatred, and angry spells of revenge I had heard my Father say or my brother joke about or my mother scold with. All these things on that day would come lashing out.

I believed that my brother's sole purpose in life was to torture and torment me, so, of course, it was him who interrupted my failed attempts at Apparating. He snuck up behind me swift as a cat and sneaky as a snake. He grabbed my shoulders startling me, breaking my concentration and causing me to drop my ring. In that exact moment, Scor reached for the ring the same time I did, but he was faster and snatched it out of the grass.

"Give it back," I said annoyed and probably sounding like a little kid.

"Fat chance, little sis," he sneered at me. "What does this little ring do anyway? Looks like a stupid piece jewelry to me. Worthless." He held it out in front of him the gem pointed at me.

I watched him as he pulled both sides of the ring causing the gem to fall off. There was a hissing sound, like a tea kettle, and the gem exploded into a cloud of green dust. But the dust didn't fall to the ground. I screamed as it rose into the air forming a huge shape, a serpent to be exact. The snake was twice my brother's size, and as a fifth year he was pretty big. It had dark brown and emerald green scales running the length of its body and the eyes were nothing but deep black pits. It barred its fangs and hissed; its forked ruby red tongue flicked out in my direction.

I heard Scor curse under his breath as the the huge snake lunged at me. I fumbled at my belt for my wand, but it was lying in the grass on the other side of the monster. What confused me was why the serpent would attack me. After all, it was created by me, or so I had originally thought. The snake attacked us both, lunging at me until my brother stepped in. It all happened so fast and in one quick motion the snake snapped Scor across the yard. He smacked into the stone wall surrounding the grounds with a sickening crack. Then, it evaporated, morphing into a cloud of dust again, covering me. It was my fault, my ring, my anger, and my magic. I thought maybe I could be different. That not all Slytherins were bad, but as I had feared, I was wrong.

Looking back, I don't even know how I got the ring, and that in itself should have worried me, but more so I should have thought of all the times rings where brought up in my first year class, Magical Items and Their Uses, and how almost all times that a ring was mentioned, it never brought any good. After all, a piece of Voldemort's soul was put into a ring as one of the seven horcruxes. Yet, for some reason, I still have that little snake ring, even though it doesn't have the tiny emerald set into it. I never thought about it at the time. The fact that it could have been someone else that controlled that snake…that controlled _me_. I didn't think anything other than "I had killed my brother," until the whispers started.

My parents didn't blame me, but then again, they hadn't seen what what really happened. Of course, the news traveled fast, but my parents tried to keep everything covered up and said nothing about the fact that I believed it was my doing. Kids at school came to me after the holidays with their condolences or their congratulations. I did my best to steer clear of people, I don't trust myself anymore.

That was months ago during last term's holiday break. Now it's the start of a new term, and my second year at Hogwarts. People still remember my brother, but no longer do people come up and apologize to me when they have done nothing wrong. It was only a week ago when the whispers started. I hate to admit it, but no wonder the famous Harry Potter was a bit insane. There were rumors that he had once heard voices in his head from the connections with Voldemort. I swear that my head is splitting in two from them. The bloody whispers keep saying that I have a part to play. That I should be happy I was chosen, and that many great Slytherins would die for this honor. It is no blasted honor to me; it is torture. Occasionally, it will tell me to do things, things I don't want to do. The whispers made me hex the entrance to the Gryffindor door common room, which, in truth, I didn't mind. But the other things, like releasing the dragons from the magical creature stables into the school, were not in my control. Also, it seemed as though when I didn't want to listen, the whispers would get revenge, that's why my arm is now pink from healing burn marks from the dragons.

In truth, these whispers terrify me, but I am no coward and I will not admit that aloud to anyone though I will admit that I need to know what is happening to me.

I distractedly walk through the halls to my first period class with my friends Daphne, Blair, and Olivia. They happily chat around me about how amazing their summers had been.

"Oh, my darling mum and dad took me to the Quidditch World Cup, and we got to sit so close to the fields I swear I touched the robes of Fenwitch!" Blair exaggerates. Blair is like my second in command, I guess you could say. Together we patrolled the corridors, Lyra Malfoy and Blair Greengrass. It's always been that way, partly because we're cousins, but we're also best friends to. Blair has dark brown hair like her mum, but blue eyes that must have come from her father. However, she doesn't know as she has never met her father because he left after the first year her mum and dad were married. After that, her mum vowed to forget he ever came into their lives, with the exception of having a daughter, and changed their last name back to Greengrass.

"Well, my parents traveled with me to see the seven wonders of the Wizarding World," Vincent brags. Vincent Nott makes up our strong and mischievous three. His dark smile very much like my own makes him look as scary as he truly is, but for the three of us, well, the scarier, the better. He has dark black hair and dark green eyes that you almost never see from his messy hair covering his eyes; Vincent is from one of the old Death Eater families and has a blood-line as long as mine. However unlike me Vincent takes pride in his father, Theodore Nott, who was also a death eater but was not a weak and miserable incompetent slug like my father's father and my very own father.

And of course Evelyn had to contribute too, "Well I got to go to the beach." Evelyn is a first year which the three of us don't particularly like. She has little kid curls and big brown eyes. She has taken to following us around the school. We really don't want to associate with her as we are still unsure of her bloodline, and, as you know, we are all high-end pureblood families in the Slytherin house.

We all laugh because that was probably the most boring thing we ever heard. We only heard of Mud-bloods or half bloods with muggle parents that went to a simple and stupid place like the beach for the summer holiday.

"Oh, yeah, well, then what did you do, Malfoy?" Evelyn asked annoyed.

I smirk, "I spent the summer touring backstage with the wrock band, Snidget," I lie. I know my friends would be extremely jealous, and what can I say? I guess I'm like most Slytherins out there; you have to be on top. And that's where I feel safest.

We walk into first period class transfigurations, and right as I take my seat, I miss the chair, and fall on the floor, distracted by the screaming in my head. I cover my ears in attempt to block it out.

Whisper, whisper, whisper, whisper, whisper, whisper, whisper, whisper. That's all they are, just whispers that wouldn't shut up! I can hear other voices saying things around me, but the whispers are so loud, I can't make out what anyone is saying. All I can hear is a jumble of noise and sound.

"Wake UP!" a whisper screeches at me. It's like I can see them swarming around in my head. They look like smoky shadows grabbing at my ears and tugging at the edge of my mind, poisoning it. It's as if they were trying to break in and take over my mind, control me into waking up whoever or whatever it is.

"WAKE ME UP!" it shouts again.

"NO!" I scream aloud, and it fades to the recesses of my mind. The outside noises stops too, it's quiet.

"Are you okay, Ms. Malfoy?" McGonagall asks. Her white and grey hair frame her old withering face with thin half-moon shaped glasses set on the tip of her nose. I look around, I'm in Transfiguration. Madame Pomfry is bustling her way through the door, and she hefts me to my feet. Madame Pomfry has a round shape with a round ugly head set on top of it. Her pumpkin colored skirts and robes do nothing to slim her matching pumpkin shape.

"Come along deary. We best be getting you to the hospital wing. We don't want you take have another episode, now do we?" she says, worriedly.

I know she means to be kind, but it feels more insulting as if she is assuming I can't take care of myself, or that I don't know how to deal with things. She is right, of course, that I don't want anyone to see this happen again, and I don't know how to handle it, but I hate the hospital wing. All it reminds me of is sickness and death, and I'm not sick or dying…at least not yet.

"No, I'm fine. I…I…just need to talk to someone," I mumble before rushing out the door.

"Miss, where do you think you're going'' McGonagall questions from the doorway in her commanding tone. I don't answer her. I just run down the hallway to the room of my least favorite professor, but the one who can connect me with someone I need to talk to.

I walk around the school to my least favorite place with my least favorite teacher. I hate the green house; the way it looks, the way it smells. I don't mind nature, and I don't mind dirt, but everything in here is caked in it. The smell is what I hate the most. It smells like everything from perfume to manure, and mint to sickly sweet plant sap. The odd combination always burns my nose; a symphony of confusing, yet orderly chaotic smells. I see Professor Longbottom tending to a group of saplings. He is wearing long tan robes that folded in and out around him. He is also wearing very worn and faded brown leather gloves. He has what looked like aviator goggles on top of his head with thick glass and large black rims. His usually nicely combed black hair is pushed back with the goggles, making it stand up in places. As I enter, he turns at the sound of my footsteps.

"Lyra Malfoy, what might you be doing here? I know for a fact it's not about the plants because if I remember Monday well enough, you detest Herbology and called my class a useless waste of time and stupider than the creation of the Muggle race," he says, oddly cheerful.

"This is going to sound odd," I warn.

"I'm supposed to deal with odd. I'm a Hogwarts professor, am I not?" he says.

"Yes, very well. I was wondering is there any way I could talk to Harry Potter?" I ask timidly.

"You of all people want to talk to Harry. Could you tell me why, Lyra?"

"It's complicated," I start.

"Well, isn't it always?"

I nod my head and say, " Yes, but this is a serious matter. Something is going on with me, and I think he is the only person who will understand and know how to react."

"Can you tell me what's wrong or, perhaps, the headmistress can help you," Professor Longbottom suggests.

I shake my head no, "I don't think McGonagall will have the answers I need."

"Then, please do tell me what is troubling you," he says sounding almost therapist like.

"I hear whispers, dark whispers. They make me do things and tell me that I have to help _him_ rise."

"Who is he?"

"I don't know! He won't tell me. All I know is that the whispers say there are great amazing powerful wizards the world seems to have forgotten, and whoever he is plans to come again with my help. Whether I want to or not," I babble.

"Mmhhhmmm," the professor mumbles. "Well, I believe we still need to know the _who _in order to solve anything," he states.

"I know that, and so does whoever this is. It's not Voldemort, but who is it then?"

"Yes, this is a rather perplexing situation here. What to do? What to do?" he mutters.

"I know what to do," I practically shriek. "We need Harry Potter!"

"I will write him an owl and let him know everything you told me. I do hope you keep me informed Ms. Malfoy. And do pay attention in my _worthless_ class," he says, dismissing me.

I walk along the empty corridors, thinking. I can't stand him. I had thought class would be over by now, but my conversation with Professor Longbottom didn't go as well as I had hoped. Throughout the whole conversation, I had sounded nothing like myself. I acted like some helpless weak and spineless little Muggle, when in fact; I am Lyra Malfoy, who is nothing of that sort. Though what did I expect, he isn't my least favorite teacher for nothing.

I'm angry, more than angry, truthfully. I am not one to sit back and watch things happen. I am the reason things happen. I will not ask stupid Potter for help. I can do this on my own. Maybe the whispers are right. Maybe he is the only one who gets it. The only one who can give me the glory, the power, and the destiny I deserve. As if sensing my thoughts, the dark tendrils of the whispers reach my mind.

"I am right, you know I am," they taunt.

"You want the power don't you? You want to restore honor to your family, I can give that to you. I can give you everything." it echoes in my head, ricocheting off the walls of my skull.

"Lyra," Vincent calls from across the corridor.

I look up from the cream and tan colored marble floor to look at his porcelain face…or should I say hair, pointed nose, and unsmiling lips.

"Vincent," I say in return.

Vincent isn't so much for talking. He just does what he wants and gets what he wants. He doesn't speak; he just does.

Although, for whatever reason, he chooses now to ask what the matter is with me, "What the hell was that?" he asks. "Don't tell me it was the whispers again."

Vincent is the only one that knows about those. I would have told Blair, but then everyone would know that I'm completely mental, whereas Vincent wouldn't dare to tell a soul. I don't have to answer before he speaks up again.

"Lyra, whoever it is, or whatever it is you're better than them or it," he says. Well, this is incredibly unusual. Not only is he not reserved today, but he's giving me a pep talk. Honestly, something is seriously wrong here.

I don't feel like telling him anything that matters, so I say, "Since when are you the one to give inspirational speeches, Mr. Melancholy?"

But for whatever reason, he isn't dropping the subject, "Lyra, I'm serious here! This could be your chance to give your family the rightful honor your father and grandfather destroyed! This is your chance to prove your power because you have so much more than them, or, even though hate to say this but you need to hear it, me."

Okay, now I give him a look. Never in a million years would Vincent ever tell me that. Yes, it is true; I am an amazing witch, but Vincent _always_ tries to prove that he is better.

"Now wipe that idiotic grin off your face, or I will do it for you. We have classes to skip, tests to fail, honor to prove, magic to cast, and first years to torment!" Now that sounded more like the terrorizing, Slytherin Vincent we all know, and often hate. And yes, I kept my most amazing trademark sly grin on my face.

After this, Vincent falls silent again as Blair comes down the hallway, relieved that she finally found us. She looks frustrated, and I'm guessing it's because of Evelyn. Blair can't stand Evelyn, in fact she hates Evelyn with a passion, but that isn't a surprise. Blair hates most people she meets. She comes to a stop in front of us with a questioning look, but Vincent shoots her a glare in response, saying 'don't ask.'

The rest of the day goes on like any other day at Hogwarts except for the "accidental" hexing of Mr. Peabody, our charms teacher, who is now glued to the ceiling of his classroom. In class, we were learning the sticking charm; good for binding muggle and magical items together. Of course, a stupid Ravenclaw student made the mistake of asking if it worked on people. I believe her name is Rashell Herondale. She has thick glasses, bushy brown hair, and small beady little eyes. In a way, she reminds me of a weasel…or a brown and dying shrub.

"Yes, but it isn't advised, as it has the potential to burn the skin and cause a red rash where the person was glued with that item; whatever it may be."

At that point, I couldn't resist. Under my desk, I levitated him into the air, and then together, Vincent and Blair cast the gluing spell. I hid my sleek black wand that was thirteen inches of hazel and a core of dragon heart string under my desk.

"_Gultenromoneo," _they mutter.

Everyone could probably guess it was us, as we laughed the loudest when it happened, but I have perfected erasing the history of my wand, almost as if all I had to do was click a button. Click, then poof there goes the proof that we were the ones that cast the spell. I had to learn of course how to perfect erasing because you can't really trust a Slytherin trying to look innocent, it just doesn't work.

Other than that, though, we had a relatively normal day after the strange and unnerving morning we had. Now we're sitting on the black leather chairs of the Slytherin common room, with the few torches in the iron wall bracket's green flames dimed low. It is late and the waxing moon is high in the sky. Even looking from my vantage point on the other side of the room, I can see millions of tiny stars in the sky. September, I think, what constellations are found in the September night sky?

"Lyra, LYRA?" Blair asks annoyed, "Did you hear what I said?"

I turn to look at her, "No, sorry, what did you say?"

"I asked, what happened today and why do you keep freaking out? This isn't the first time this has happened, is it?" she asks. I hesitate.

"Is it?" she prompts again.

I glance at Vincent, and, from what I can see of his half hidden eyes, they scream "_lie to her_."

**A/N: Okay, so that was chapter one! Tell me what you guys think. Reviews are sweet, and so are cookies I will accept both! :) Just to clear up a few things up, Lyra was four years younger than Scorpious, so Lily Potter would be two years older than her. Since Lyra is in her second year, Lily is in her fourth, and is the last Potter of this generation at Hogwarts for now. If you have any questions, comments, suggestions, funny jokes you care to share, what you ate for breakfast, or you just want to say hi, you know what to do. Click on the review button! It doesn't bite…at least not usually! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, so this is chapter two! I hope you all enjoy and review when you have finished reading.**

**Disclaimer: Of course I'm not J.K. Rowling! If I was, I wouldn't need to be writing this story.**

After breakfast of the next morning, we talk as we walk down the hall to History of Magic, probably one of the most boring classes this school has ever decided to offer. Blair was content with the lie that I told her the night before and seems to have dropped the subject for now. Our shoes click on the hard floors as we climb the steps up to the entrance of his classroom. The large heavy oak doors are held back by huge metal chains set in the walls. The ceilings are high and vaulted with wood beams from the same oak as the door run over our heads. The tables are like lab tables with two people on either side of the desk. As we enter I head for the table in the back far corner of the room, perfect for sleeping in class without the knowledge of Professor Binns. His bulging eyes and balding head make him look like an overly large dung beetle and then his enormous frame in a far too small set of robes add to his slight beetle-like appearance. He is also the new head of Ravenclaw but as to why I have yet to figure out, for I think he is a rather ignorant professor.

He begins class the same way every time; he walks through the blackboard and says, "Hello class, now pay attention, dears, because as we know history always repeats itself." His voice is low and fits with his short and plump stature, but always after his little introduction he gives a slight giggle of sorts that sounds like a cat getting ground up beneath the wheels of a train car, which many of us find quite disturbing that such a high noise could come from such a large ghostly professor.

Blair snickers when Vincent leans over the desk to whisper something about Professor Binns in her ear. Of course, he doesn't hear a thing. Binns is as deaf as a can be. He begins his lecture as the entire Slytherin year groans in defiance, which is returned by a sharp look from most of the Ravenclaw students in the room, as if annoyed that anyone could not want to know learn what a professor has to say. Reluctantly, most of the students take out their textbooks and flip to page two hundred and fifty nine.

I glance down at the page and see the four crests of our school, representing the four houses and the founders for which they are named. The founders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin.

Beginning his lecture, Professor Binns starts, "I am sure you are all familiar with the four founders of Hogwarts, but today we are going to delve deeper into the lives of these magnificent witches and wizards. We will start with Godric Gryffindor. Now Gryffindor is often depicted with dark reddish brown mane of hair much like the lion that poses as his symbol for strength and courage. He was born in what is now as Godric's Hollow, which was also the place where Harry Potter lost his mother and father to the killing curse cast from the Dark Lord's wand." It has been more than twenty years since his death, and yet people are still afraid to say the name.

"Must we refer to him as the Dark Lord, his name is Voldemort. He is dead, saying his name won't bring him back," I say standing up. I am sick of hearing just the Dark Lord, no, his name is…was Voldemort.

"If you have something to add Ms. Mallory you will do it respectfully and without interrupting my class," he says before continuing. "Now as I was saying Godric Gryffindor was born in Godric's Hollow where the Potter family was murdered. Godric grew up to become a great wizard fighting for Muggles, Muggle-borns, and working to vanquish the discrimination against them. Now the Sorting Hat that sorted all of you when you first came to Hogwarts was said to originally belong to Gryffindor as well, and it was one of his contributions to the school. Now if you look in your text book at the crest of Gryffindor, you will see the red and gold colors and a lion. As I previously mentioned, the lion was a symbol of strength and courage, as well as the colors. The red symbolizes strength, power, passion, and courage, while the gold symbolizes the purity and good heart of those in Gryffindor. Now, on the opposite end of the spectrum, we have Slytherin. Salazar Slytherin strongly believed that only pureblood wizards had the right to use magic, and that anyone with tainted bloodlines were not real wizards. Because of this, the majority of students placed in the Slytherin house are of pureblood status."

I hear Vincent mutter something about stupid Mudbloods tainting our society under his breath, but I couldn't quite catch exactly what he was saying.

"Now Salazar Slytherin's crest is represented by that of a snake, and we believe the reason is because Salazar was the first Parselmouth in record. Many pictures depicting Slytherin show him much older than the other three founders, with wrinkles and stone cold grey eyes. The statue that was recovered from the chamber of secrets shows us that Slytherin was tall and had a wiry frame very different from the large and muscular build of Gryffindor. When Hogwarts was finished, Slytherin tried to convince the other founders that he was right in his ways of banishing and ridding the earth of Muggles and Muggle-borns. Salazar Slytherin was unsuccessful in this and left a chamber behind for his heir to carry out the deed. The Da-Voldemort," he choked out. "Voldemort was Slytherin's heir. However, both Salazar and the Dark Lord were unsuccessful. When Slytherin could not convince the other founders of his ways, he left the school we have no record though of where and what happened to him afterward."

I always did wonder what happened to Salazar Slytherin after he left Hogwarts, but even the history books can't tell you that. It's almost like you would have to hear it from Salazar yourself. I wondered if he never died and was possibly still alive today, despite what people say, Salazar Slytherin was one of the greatest wizards to ever walk the face of the planet.

Professor Binns moved on to the last to founders, Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw, the two whom I could care nothing about. I found both to be weak, spineless, and to have contributed nothing to the founding of our school except help to poison it with the influence of Mudbloods. Also, both were all about equality, when that is not the way things need to be run.

"It is said that Rowena believed in teaching all those capable of learning, but then later died of a broken heart," Professor Brunswick drones.

"Oh pity me I'm dying because of a broken heart," Blair dramatizes as she clutches her heart and pretends to cry.

"Oh look at me I'm Helga Hufflepuff and I think we should bring everyone together; Muggles, purebloods, mudbloods, and house elves alike. I think I'm going to be sick," Vincent says.

"I say we-," but I am interrupted by a whispering in the back of my mind.

"Listen, and wake me!"

"What, Lyra?" Blair asks.

"Never mind," I state.

"Okay then," she says and goes back to snickering at Vincent's witty little jokes.

"_Why, why do you want me to listen? Who are you?" _I ask back, this is the first time I have actually asked the voices something in return.

"LIIIISSTTTTEEEEEN!" it hisses back at my mind, almost snake-like.

"Each of the founders had a magic item that gave power to the wearer or yielder of that magic item. The sword of Gryffindor which is a goblin made sword meaning that it takes in that what makes it stronger. The golden locket with the S engraved in it for Salazar Slytherin which the Dark Lord later used as one of his seven horcruxes along with the Tiara diadem belonging to Ravenclaw and the cup of Hufflepuff. Three of the four have been destroyed, only leaving the sword of Gryffindor from the founding four."

"Llooockkkeeed," the voice hisses again, before fading away on its own.

"Locked? What could be locked?" I mutter aloud.

"Do you have something to add Ms. Miller?" Binns asks calling me the wrong name again.

"No," I respond.

"Very well, then you will keep quiet in my class," he says before returning to his endless lecture.

When class finally came to an end, the three of us walked out of the classroom and back into the corridors, bustling with various students of various years. Exiting the room, we join the large mass of people heading to and from a variety different classes.

"We are not going to Herbology," I say, walking in the opposite direction as the greenhouse.

Vincent and Blair don't question, you don't question me. Obediently, the two follow me down the hall to the Room of Requirement. When we arrive at the entry way, I tap three times against the door before it opens. Inside the room is empty, why that is I have yet to discover, because for so many the room has been things such as the house for Dumbledore's Army and plenty of other things I'm not even aware of. The room has high ceilings that go so high; they seem to vanish into thin air. The floor is hardwood and dusty, and the air is always frigid. No windows, no sunlight, just three dim light torches on each of the four walls. The place is always empty except for today because sitting in the middle of the floor is a snake, very much like the one that killed my brother.

I whip out my wand and turn to see if the others have done the same. They have not because they are frozen where they stand. Lips in mid conversation, eyes still not aware of the snake in the room; everything is normal to them. Cautiously, I tiptoe over to the snake, which turns its head in my direction.

"I've been waiting for you to show up here, Malfoy," the snake hisses. Slowly, the snake circles my feet.

"How can I understand you? I'm no Parselmouth," I ask.

"True, you are not, a shame really. But you can talk to me because, while you are not a Parselmouth, I am not a truly snake. True, my form may look like one, but that never binds me to this form's vulnerability," it whispers, the same voice of that in my head.

Slithering around my ankles, the snake raises its head to mine. Its human-like eyes, a similar cold and unforgiving grey to my own, bore into my head.

"So tragic really, it is, that you can't seem to do anything right. So confused and haunted by the thought of killing your own brother," it hisses in my face. I open my mouth to give a reply, but the snake interrupts.

"No, no, don't speak. You will listen to me. You killed him, didn't you? You doubt it at times, but you know it was you. Your family lies to you. They blame you for all their problems, for the shame that has been brought down on your name. It should come to no surprise that you are exactly like your father!" it laughs at me.

"You lie!" I shout in return.

"Do I?" it asks. "You are a coward, a pitiful, spineless Malfoy. But you don't have to be."

"I am no coward, and you cannot deceive me. You will have to do much more than pester me with whispers to frighten me. I am not spineless, and I don't fear you!" I yell at it.

"Well, now it is you that speaks lies, Malfoy." The emerald snake hisses coolly.

"You know well enough that only an arrogant fool is not afraid. And if that is so, then Lyra Narcissa Malfoy, you are truly a fool, just like your father."

I say nothing in return, but I feel my face redden in anger.

"Yes, you remind me much of myself when I was younger. Believed I could take on the world. I was proud, too proud for my own good, much like you are, young Malfoy. You have much to learn, and very little time. If you do not find me in a year's time, the poison in your veins will indeed kill you. I may not be able to trick you in this form, but I have other ways far worse than childish whispers. So as you wish, I will do much more than that."

"Poison what-" and before I could finish my sentence the snake lunged tearing a large gash of flesh from my arm and sinking its razor sharp fangs into the open wound. I scream out in agony that could curdle milk as the pain spread through me along with the deadly venom. I desperately clutch my injured arm, still shrieking in pain. I beg for it to stop, but if a snake could laugh and smile, this one certainly just did.

"I do hope you find me, it would be a terrible pity to see you die. In truth, I rather like you, Malfoy, but only if you do my bidding," it says, as it unwinds from my ankles. Then, slithering back to the center of the room, the snakes withers and vanishes much like a vampire would do in the sun.

With the emerald snake gone, I look down at my arm. The skin around it has returned, but it is a garish purple blue color of a fresh bruise and that color seems to be running in my veins. Quickly, it fades back to my deathly pale colored skin, just as Vincent and Blair unfreeze as if nothing had happened.

"Even wizards have a hard time excepting something we cannot see and others cannot prove, just remember that the worst is yet to come," he whispers in my mind again; this time with both a handhold and a foothold to root itself in my thoughts. After this little encounter, I might have preferred Herbology to this.

"So what is the plan then?" Blair asks Vincent, resuming their previous discussion about the best way to go about bewitching the all the shrubs and bushes on the school campus.

"I'm telling you, if we don't bewitch them now, when we are suppose to be in Herbology, then we can't use the cover story of a little spell mishap," Vincent explained.

Blair then gives her input to the situation, "No, it is better if we bewitch them tonight, that way no one will even suspect it was us."

I couldn't care less about this anymore. It seemed impossibly trivial to what I just witnessed. I was no longer concerned with the small little pranks everyone would forget in a week's time, I now had a year to save my life and find someone I didn't even know the identity of, and I know that this can only be the beginning of what is to come in my life or death situation.

"No, you're not listening-" Vincent starts.

"Shut up, both of you just SHUT UP!" I yell, whirling on my heel to face them.

They both back away in surprise at the anger in my voice, "Lyra?" Blair asks timidly.

I don't answer. Instead, I push past both of them and out of the Room of Requirement because it no longer is a safe place to be, not if he can reach me there. I need answers; I need clues, anything, and I don't have much time. And what better place to get answers than the library with seemingly infinite books with infinite topics to chose from.

The library is one of my favorite places at my home in Malfoy Manor, not because of the books, oh no, I hate reading, but because of the quietness of it all, and that the rest of my family rarely set foot inside its threshold.

Once inside the library, I am met by the smell of musty old books and worn leather bindings. The library is brightly lit with the large windows lining the walls. I walk to the large wood desk made from mahogany in the back of the library.

"Can I help you dear?" asks the librarian, Professor Prince, who looks like a straggly vulture.

"Yes, I am doing a term paper on dark wizards through the ages, would you be able to assist me in acquiring the books I may need to complete this assignment?"

"Mmhhhmmmm," she murmurs, looking me up and down before coming out behind her desk. "What you are looking for can be found in one place, and that is a place I cannot grant you access to, but I can give you a few books as long as they are returned within the hour. Are we clear?" she asks leading me to the door in front of the restricted section of the library.

"Stay here," she commands, as she unlocks the heavy door and slips inside. I wait rather impatiently for her return. Quickly, she comes back out carrying a large stack of books in her arms, opens the door, and quickly relocks it before anyone has a chance at entering.

"Here," she says handing me the towering stack of books. There is no possibility that I will be able to finish reading all one…two…three…twelve books within the hour. I quickly walk to the closest table and drop the books with a loud thud, against the table that creaks under the new addition of weight. I slump into the chair and pull the first book of the stack.

It is a green leather book, "How fitting," I mutter. "It would be green because there wasn't a single witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin," I state sourly.

The scrawling script on the cover ironically reads Dark Magic through the Ages. I flip the book to a random page on Morgan le Fay. Looking down at the page, I begin to read. The page says things like Morgana wanted to rule over the kingdom, or she was a skillful witch in the dark arts and animagus transformations. As I continued to read the page, the words started swimming on the parchment.

The printed letters move and shift then gravitate toward the center of the page. Then, they continue moving, taking a shape and form of a snake. The words slither around the page, and then six words fell from the snake's mouth to the bottom of the page.

_The worst is yet to come._

In a fit, I slam the book closed and throw it on the floor. It lands and slides against the nearest bookshelf with a thud. A little cloud of dust erupts from the pages. I hear the floorboards creak as Professor Prince scuttles out from behind her desk to inspect the noise. Quickly, I snatch the book off the ground; it could still prove useful yet. I tuck it inside my robes and walk to Professor Prince.

"I'm finished with the books you gave me. All eleven books are on the table," I lie to her.

Before she can say anything, I rush out of the library and back to the Slytherin common room, my body shaking from the echoes in my head.

The voice laughs and says, "I told you, the worst is yet to come."

The worst is yet to come.

The worst is yet to come.

The worst is yet to come.

The worst is yet to come.

I am not afraid of snakes, but everywhere I look they seem to slither from the walls and raise the floorboards under my feet as they slither underneath. They lash out at me, following me as I run through the corridors.

"My little snake, no daughter of my house should run away in fear. You are a coward like all the others of your bloodline always running away from the true chance of glory. No wonder you are nothing. You are just as your name calls you; disobedient and unfaithful," the thousand different snakes spit at me.

I stop in my tracks, I hate it, but I am certainly no coward.

"If I am such a coward, then why choose me to do your bidding?" I ask angrily at the snakes.

"Smart, you are, little snake, but there is a flame, a dark flame that burns within you; a flame that I haven't seen since the time when Voldemort was known as Tom Marvelo Riddle. That is why I have chosen you, and eventually you will follow me. You known inside that the words I speak to you are the truth, after all you murdered your own brother," the snakes hiss back in unison.

The snakes continue to slither behind the walls and under my feet, but the voices fade back to only a faint echo of hysterical laughter.

"Remember, little snake, the worst is yet to come," he laughs, his voice barely audible.

**A/N: Well, that was chapter two. I hope you guys liked it, and I would love it if you could review and let me know what you think. As always,**

**READ, WRITE, LOVE FANFICTION**

**~DL**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I now give to you chapter three! Dun Dun DUUUNNNNNNN! I know you're trembling. Well, here it is anyways .**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't own Harry Potter…so sad. **

My fists clench and unclench as I walk stiffly through the corridors. I wind my way around the school and into the dungeons. Coming to a darker indent in the wall, I stop. Password, password, what is the password?

"Oh, Salazar's Heir," I shout and the wall vanishes.

The common room is busy with Slytherins, who like me had ditched class. The green torches are glowing brightly throughout the dungeon casting eerie, but familiar shadows around the room. The leather sofas are swarmed with a chattering group of first years. The sleek black matching tables are also taken up by people whose names I hadn't bothered to learn.

Standing at the top of the steps, I give my best wicked smile and shout, "ALL OF YOU, GET OUT!"

Seeing the anger clearly etched on my face, the first years don't even think twice about grabbing their books into their arms and shuffling out the door. However, the other group of students at the table only gives me questioning looks. Stealthily, I whip my wand out of my robes and point it at them.

"Are you questioning my ability to send you to the hospital wing for the rest of the term while they try to put the pieces of your body back together?" I snarl.

"Lyra Malfoy, you don't have any power over us. In fact, you don't have any power at all. I'm surprised you even decided to come to Hogwarts after the shame of everything that has happened in your pathetic life," a boy with dark blonde hair and dark brown eyes replies snidely. "I would love to see you try and do any little spell."

"You'll pay," I mutter, "Furnunculus!" the curse hits the boy right in the face and he stumbles to the floor.

His pale face begins to turn red with blisters as it swells and boils pop up all over his neck, arms, and legs.

"Look what you did to Evan, you stupid little girl!" shouts one of the girls, who is now trying to help Evan up.

"He's lucky I didn't do worse, but this filth isn't worth getting expelled over," I say, "Now get out!"

This time I'm not questioned as the five of them pick Evan up off the floor and head out to the hospital wing to cure him. With the common room to myself, I can finally think again. As I pace about the dungeon, I hear it again. The voice floats its way back into my mind.

"Still questioning things I see," it hisses. "All the answers are right in front of your nose. You're a powerful witch and someday you will be known as the great power that brought me back to life. Your name will be loved, feared, and respected. That's what you want, isn't it?"

"Yes," I answer firmly, a new clarity in my once unsteady voice.

"You see what you did there, that was nothing compared to the power I can give you. And together we can purge the earth and rid it of all those of un-pure and non-magical blood. I can give you everything you only dreamed of having."

"Well, then, tell me who you are!" I shout.

"Unfortunately, little snake, that you must find out on your own and soon, I don't plan to lie in a chamber forever," he laughs, as if it was a joke.

"Chamber," I mumble.

"Stttaaarrtttt tthere," it hisses into the distance.

"FIND ME!" and then it's silent once more.

I let the book that had been tucked inside my robes slide to the floor with a thump. Slowly, I bend down to pick it up. The book feels heavy in my hand as I carefully sit down at the table and open the green cover. Cautiously, I leaf through the pages looking for anything that might mention even a sentence about a chamber.

"Miss Malfoy," a voice calls from the entrance of the dungeon. "Please come with me."

I look up to see the round shape of Professor Slughorn looking if possible a mixture of pleased, disappointment and anger, I'm going to guess all at me. Closing the book I rise from the table and walk towards the Professor.

"Can I help you, Professor?" I ask innocently. Though I have to say, innocence for a Slytherin is as uncommon as snow in July.

"Were you the one that cast the boil charm on Mr. Peters?" he asked bluntly.

There was no use in lying, "Yeah," I respond.

"Well, marvelous job in execution of the-"

"Hmmhhrrm," the voice of McGonagall cut him off, "Horace." (Who is this voice?)

"Hmm, yes, right. As a professor of this school, I must deduct five points from Slytherin, and you will be serving detention with me for the remainder of this week, every evening at precisely seven o'clock," he explains somewhat apologetic.

"Fine," I mutter.

"Very well then. Now get to class!" he says.

I roll my eyes and walk past him out into the corridor. I can't cut this class because it's Potions with the Gryffindors and Slughorn as the teacher. I slip into the mob of people entering the low lit dungeon that is the Potions classroom. I am instantly greeted on both sides by Blair and Vincent.

"Where did you go?" Blair asks.

"Is it true what you did to Evan?" Vincent asks before I have a chance to answer the first question.

"Yes," I mutter, "And I would have done much worse, but he's not worth getting expelled over."

"Serves him right though, I always hated Evan anyway," Vincent whispers.

Blair and I nod in agreement. Evan is a self centered nobody who is convinced he is the best thing that ever happened to this place, you could say he is just like every other Slytherin out there, I guess. However, it seems as if Evan Peters' sole reason in life is to get under the skin of every single person he meets.

"Well, come on, you're not going to stand in the hallway all day. There are cauldrons out and potions to be brewed," Professor Slughorn motions from the entryway.

The crowd of students files into his classroom and takes their seats.

"Now, who can tell me what the most powerful sleeping potion is?" The professor asks from the front of the classroom.

Blair is a potions genius, but she knows better than to stick her hand in the air.

"What about you, Mr. Lilith?" Slughorn asked a bored-looking Gryffindor.

When he didn't respond, Slughorn jokes to the rest of the class, "Well, obviously someone knows because they must have slipped him one before my class."

The class laughs feebly at his joke until he takes one of the books from his desk and drops it right next to the brown haired boy's head. Then, the class really laughs as he jerks up, looking dazed and confused.

"Mr. Lilith, you know very well what I think of those who fall asleep in my class. That will be five points taken from Gryffindor house."

The Slytherins give a silent cheer as Slughorn turns his back to the class.

"The most powerful sleeping potion is the Draught of Living Death. This potion is much too advanced for second years, however, it is offered in your sixth year advanced potions class. Instead, we are making a simple sleeping potion that wears off after an hour or so. However, the drinker of the Draught of Living Death can only be awakened with the Elixir of Life," the round professor explains to the class.

"Okay, so on your work tables you will find the basic ingredients of a simple sleeping potion. You have asphodel and wormwood but be sure to follow the instructions exactly because any miscalculations could be deadly to you," he mutters with a smile.

I turn to look at Blair and Vincent, "Blair is my partner, sorry, Vince."

"Nice try, Lyra, but you got Blair last time. It's my turn," he says, looping his arm through hers.

"So, I'm her best friend," I loop my arm through her free one, and I tug her closer in my direction.

"Actually," Blair starts, "I don't think I'm going to work with either of you."

"Is this because you found out that we are only using you to pass the term?" Vincent asks jokingly.

"Oh no, I'm proud of you two for that. However, there is someone else I would rather work with," She murmurs as Adrian Flint waltzes his way over to the three of us.

"Blair, I was wondering…" Before he can finish, Blair responds with a yes. Together they walk back over to the table that Adrian had been working at.

Pursing my lips, I narrow my eyes and glare at Vincent, who in response glares back at me.

"Alright, if I'm stuck with you, we might as well start on it," I say through gritted teeth.

Vincent doesn't say anything in return, only glances at the text book in front of him and passes me the wormwood. In silence, we work on the potion chopping, slicing, measuring, or adding the ingredients as we go to the bubbling cauldron on the floor next to us.

"That should be enough," Vincent mumbles to himself as he tosses the asphodel into the mixture.

"It's not turning purple," I whisper from over his shoulder as I stand on my tiptoes to get a glance into the cauldron.

"Well, maybe-" but I didn't get to hear what he was going to say as the oozing blue liquid shot from the cauldron and splashed on to the floor. Luckily, it landed on the side of the cauldron opposite of us.

"Nobody move!" Slughorn shouts as he surveys the damage and the shocked looks on all the other students' faces.

As he takes a step to the scolding light blue puddle on the floor, he shakes his head.

"Alright, class dismissed while I clean up this little potion mishap," he grumbles, obviously annoyed.

The class gladly grabs their books and makes a mass exodus toward the exit of the dungeon classroom. On the way out, we catch up with Blair, who is still talking to Adrian.

"Sorry to interrupt, well, actually I'm not," I say to Adrian as Vincent and I take hold of Blair and turn down a different corridor.

"What do you guys think you're doing?" Blair asks, extremely annoyed.

"See what you did," I mutter.

"Yeah, just because you wanted to be with Adrian, we blew up a potion, no thanks to you," Vincent says.

"…but it was pretty cool." I add. "It's just too bad it didn't hit one of those stupid Gryffindors."

Blair and Vincent both laugh half-heartedly as we head down the main hallway to the great hall for dinner. As we enter the hall, our ears are swarmed with the various voices that float through the air. The ceiling resembles the weather as well as our mood as it rumbles with gray clouds and the threats of stormy weather. We like the night sky tonight were boiling in annoyance but only with empty threats at the moment.

We weave our way over to the Slytherin table where we find an empty place at the long oak table that stretches the length of the great hall. I take a seat on the wooden bench and the other do the same.

"Students, Faculty, and Staff!" McGonagall's voice booms to fill the great hall. She begins her evening speech about one thing or another but my attention is elsewhere. As the headmistress addresses the school another voice finds its way to the reassess of my mind.

"Miss me," the voice murmurs sarcastically, a new tactic to his approach I might add.

"I thought you did," it sneers at me.

"Bite me!" I whisper shout in my head.

The voice chuckles a deep and soulless laugh before saying, "Oh, but little snake, I thought I already did that."

"What do you want?" I ask impatiently.

"The same thing I always want, tick tock, little snake, your time is draining by the minute," he muses.

"And what if I don't want to help you?"

"I've already told you the positive and negatives of accepting or rejecting my commands. And since you asked what I wanted I'll tell you one thing I need a potion or two and something that belonged to me long ago, I want it," he explains.

I begin to ask him yet another question when he interrupts me, "I don't care for your stupid and unintelligent questions, and just do as I say! Are we clear?"

I can't respond it's like my mind has been frozen over and I can't move a muscle.

"Don't question me, little snake, you will find I can be much worse than a fatal snake bite, much, much worse."

I'm strangely quite all through dinner barely eating, just pushing food around my plate with a fork until I get up and say, "Later, I have detention, remember."

I head toward the dungeons to meet Professor Slughorn for detention. I walk in and see him standing over his desk and furrowing his brow at something on the table. My shoes barely make a sound as I stride across the hard stone floor to his large mahogany desk at the front of the classroom.

He doesn't look up but mutters, "What are you doing here?"

"Detention, sir," I reply.

"Mmhhmm, oh, yes, right. Sit. Umm, actually, come back tomorrow, your detention is canceled today. I have urgent matters to which I must attend." Then, he wades his way through the desks and disappears through the archway.

I don't know whether it is curiosity or stupidity that leads me to snatch up my bag and rush down the hallway after him, but something is definitely wrong and it isn't my doing, so I'm going to be the first to know about it. I stick to the shadows as I slither my way behind Slughorn just out of sight. I stay pressed against the cold stone wall as he stands at the foot of the steps that lead up to Headmistress McGonagall's office.

As I wait, practically invisible, unless you were looking for me, I watch a collection of teachers enter McGonagall's office. Something must be really wrong for them to all just up and leave like that. I sneak my way back into the dungeons and to the Slytherin common room where everyone is oblivious to the fact that something is extremely wrong.

"Is it you?" I ask the voice, addressing it first. I haven't heard it since dinner but that doesn't mean it isn't there. It is always there apparently, and it has made that very clear to me.

"Little snake," he taunts "if it was me, you would know because it would be you."

I didn't argue because he was right of course while he apparently had the strength to use legilimency to navigate through my mind, but he did not have the power and strength to do his own bidding. At the precise moment as I formulated that theory, another idea seems to make a more present appearance in my mind, a word that could be the answer to who is behind this.

Legilimency.

There are very few with the skill level in legilimency and even fewer with this much power and again even fewer who are very powerful dark wizards.

"But all that are greatly known are dead, aren't they?" I ask myself.

"Well, obviously not," he creeps back into my mind to say.

Frustrated again, I ask, "Well then why can't you just tell me who you are?"

"Oh, but what is the fun in that? I have to be sure you're the right one and this is how I am testing you. I can already control you, but can I use you? That's the question I need to answer."

"What do you think you're doing wandering the corridors?" a girl's voice questions behind me.

I spin on my heal and see that I'm standing face to face with the tangled mass of red hair belonging to none other than Gryffindor Prefect, Lily Luna Potter. She stands there like she is all high and mighty with her arms crossed and the questioning look on her face. Her flame red hair that marks her with both Harry's mother and as one of the Weasley family falls down past her shoulders. Her piercing brown eyes gleam with authority as they bore into my glass gray eyes.

"What am I doing here? What am I doing here?" I ask to nobody, "She dares to ask me what I'm doing here, the nerve of her!" I shout again at the empty air in the deserted Hogwarts corridor.

"Yes, I asked you what the bloody hell are you doing wandering the corridor at night?" she asks.

A wave of hysteria comes over me and my body turns fever hot, and as I burn up, I manically laugh at the ceiling. But I have no control anymore, it is me on the outside, but on the inside I was struggling to stay present. His smoky grasp was reaching too far into my brain and trying to take hold. I collapse to the floor and he retreats, but I feel like I'm going to die, that he will kill me right then and there as I lay on the cold and unforgiving stone floor. My skin is still burning up against the cool stone. Then, I slowly raise my eyes to meet the gaze of Lily Potter as I slightly lift my throbbing head from the floor.

She is not amused, if only it had been a joke, but I feel sick to my stomach as I gingerly pick myself up off the ground. I stand up and look up at her, my eyes glaring into hers. I feel anger as I slowly regain control of my own mind.

"You best get back to your common room, Malfoy, oh, wait, shouldn't you be in detention?"

"Wouldn't you like to know!" I shout bitterly and push past her back toward the direction of the Slytherin common room.

I run through the corridors breathlessly, still burning up. I stop in front of the Slytherin common room entrance, ready to enter, then rethink my decision and head in a new direction, leaving the dungeons altogether. My head is pounding and I press my palms to my forehead and the cold sweat sticks to my shaking hands. I quickly turn down a new corridor and find myself face to face with the entrance to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Once inside the deserted lavatory, I run my hands under the cool water from the old sinks and splash some on to my face in hopes of breaking my temperature.

"What are you doing here?" Myrtle moans at me from the window ledge.

Angrily, I shout at her, "Why does everyone want to know what I'm doing or why am I here all the time? Why can't anyone just leave me alone?"

At first, the ghost girl shrank back, but then she rises from the window and floats an inch from my nose and screams, "Then just GO AWAY!"

I reach out to swat at her, but my hand passes through her without making any real contact, but I guess that what happens when you try to hit a ghost.

"GO AWAY!" she screams again. Then, she flies back up to her nook in the windowsill as I fume, heading out the door and back into the hallway.

"Quite unfortunate that filthy mudblood is already dead," I mutter to myself.

"Quite," the voice agrees.

"Because if she weren't, why I-"

But I was interrupted by the voice's laughter, directed at me.

"What, pray tell, is so hilarious."

"I can see into your mind, your thoughts and desires, little snake. I know you still question why I chose you and what this means to you. I know your doubts, your fears, your desires and your secrets I can see them at any time I wish." The words formed in my mind. "You still question that dark flame I mentioned that burns within you, but I know more than you think, so much more."

Exhausted, I make my way back toward the common room glad that my fever-like skin and pounding head have returned to normal and I no longer feel like I might die. Upon entering the common room, I don't linger by the door or in the main room instead I head straight to my dormitory and collapse on my bed. I don't see Blair, thankfully, as I am not in the mood for her pestering questions.

I change and then I crawl into my bed and rest my head against the far too soft and squishy pillow. I stare up at the dark ceiling and wait for sleep to carry me away.

"Sweet dreams, little snake," I hear before spiraling deep into my subconscious.

**A/N: Well, that's that! Hope to hear what you all have to say. I love reviews and compliments, but I also love CC, so please, just take the time to tell me how I'm doing. Yours truly, and remember**

**READ, WRITE, LOVE, FANFICTION**

**~DL**


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